


Pretty Young Thing

by Vorta_Scholar



Category: From Beyond (1986)
Genre: Clothed Sex, Creampie, Desk Sex, F/M, Foreplay, Kissing, Sneaking Around, getting caught
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-16
Updated: 2021-01-16
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28796547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vorta_Scholar/pseuds/Vorta_Scholar
Summary: Crawford and the Reader fool around in the lab while Pretorius is out.
Relationships: Crawford Tillinghast/Reader
Kudos: 8





	Pretty Young Thing

It was one of those slow days. The next round of parts Pretorius had ordered hadn’t come in yet, and you couldn’t do anything until you had them. So besides re-organizing your notes and clearing away the odd box or two, there wasn’t much to do in the lab. Pretorius was in a seminar, one of those three hour long ones for the PhD candidates, which left you and Crawford alone in the house.

Crawford had let down his guard enough to come stand in front of you where you sat on the edge of the desk, his legs between your knees and his hands in yours, playing with them idly as you talked. Every now and then, his eyes would cut over towards the door, but he had nothing to worry about. Pretorius wasn’t due back for at least another two hours.

After a little while, you slid his hand up your thigh and under your skirt to the front of your panties. His breath caught in his throat and he swallowed when he felt how wet you were, his eyes falling suddenly to look at your hands as you undid the button on his trousers.

“I don’t know that this is such a good idea,” he said, but made no move to stop you.

Instead, he rubbed his fingers lightly over the front of your panties and he took a step closer to kiss you as you slipped a hand inside his trousers. You massaged him over his underwear. He was already very hard. His hips squirmed and with his free hand he grabbed the edge of the desk beside you, leaning more into the kiss, his hand moving more deliberately now.

_“Mph,”_ he moaned, the sound muffled against your lips.

“Crawford,” you panted between kisses.

“Yes?”

_“Please,”_ was all you could manage.

Your head fell back and his mouth moved down to your throat.

“What’s that?” he asked.

You started to push his boxers down and suddenly he paused, looking at you, panting, his eyes wide.

“Here?” he asked, his voice quiet.

“You can close the door if you’re so worried,” you said.

He glanced at it.

“No,” he said softly, turning back to you. “If you’re sure.”

“I am.”

“Okay.”

He slid his hands up your thighs and over your hips until he reached the waistband of your panties, and he pulled them down and off, dropping them onto the desk next to you. He kissed you tenderly as he hooked his hands behind your knees, dragging you to the edge of the table and stepping between your legs. You held his body close to yours, your fingers tightening around handfuls of his sweater as he entered you, and you whimpered softly, squeezing your eyes shut tight.

“Is this alright?” he asked, breathless.

_“Yes,”_ you breathed, pulling him in closer with your legs around his hips, making him slide deeper into you. “Please move.”

And he did, slow at first, but gradually picking up momentum. He laid one hand flat on the desk beside you and the other on your back, and you clung to him. You wanted to feel more of him, to feel his skin under your hands, the warmth and the softness of his body against yours. There was time to undress, to lie back and really enjoy each other, to go down to his room, even, and lock the door and really take your time, but you were impatient. Both of you were. The need for _now_ had overpowered the desire for _more_. But here, with him panting against your neck, his fingers digging into your thighs, your hips, your back, so hard they might leave bruises, and hearing the sounds he was making, you could hardly mind. You doubted he did either.

“Oh, God,” you sighed, your back arching some at the feeling of his cock throbbing inside you as he pressed on, a little harder than before. _“Hmm…”_

“ _Oh,_ you feel so good.”

_“My, my…”_

At the sound of that voice in the doorway, you flew apart abruptly and Crawford fumbled to close his trousers before turning around, keeping his body between you and the door as you hopped off the desk.

Pretorius chuckled. “Sorry to have interrupted,” he said. “It’s just...I didn’t think you had it in you, Crawford.”

Crawford’s eyes widened. “Edward, please,” he said, shaking his head.

“But she is such a _pretty young thing_ ,” Pretorius went on. “So I can’t say I blame you.”

You could barely meet his gaze, but you could feel his eyes on you, shamelessly looking you over like some kind of animal eyeing up its prey.

“Edward,” Crawford said, speaking up a little louder than before, and Pretorius raised an eyebrow. _“Please stop.”_

“Don’t worry. I was just leaving,” Pretorius said, holding up a book. “I just came back to get this.” He gave another nasty grin before turning and walking out of the room once more. _“Goodbye, now!”_ he called back just before the front door slammed.


End file.
